In the zoo, the lions are denied the fundamental essence of their being, their chance to hunt prey, and bring it down and kill it, and to teach their cubs the skills they in turn will need to master. At meal time, they are thrown generous hunks of raw meat. But there is no hunt, no thrill, no skill, no challenge, no chance to be a real lion.

My uncle George was probably the most selfish, self-centered person I have ever met. I call him George because that was his real name, and I prefer to run his real name through the mud rather than a fake name. I'm sometimes accused of being cynical or negative in my thinking. But I want to assure you from the outset that this story has a happy ending. George dies.

If this movie had had so much as a hint of anti-Muslim elements (not historically possible, of course), President Bush, the Wall Street Journal (which has written admiringly about the movie) and other heavy hitters would have been weighing in against stereotyping and intolerance. But hey, it’s only the Jews.